Mission Control at Comfortably Domestic
A funny thing happened on my way to my last blog post–our router died. Those of you that hang out with me on Facebook or Twitter have already heard this, so please bear with me. For those of you who don’t hang on Facebook and Twitter? Why the heck not? Fun stuff happens over there on a daily basis!
But back to the router…my router died seven days ago, therefore cutting my laptop off from the outside world. Allow me to get all Computer-Geek on you by explaining that the router is the cute little box in my house that “routes” the smartypants-computer-code-stuff from my laptop to the Internet so that I can chat with all of you. LOVE my router! At least it did before it died on me.
Not that I blame the router for dying or anything. I mean, it was five years old, which we come to find out was about 4 years beyond its life expectancy due to known-issues. So we bid our old-workhorse-router farewell one minute, and ordered a replacement the next.
Technology waits for no one.
Being that we were teetering precariously on the cusp of a holiday weekend, we opted absorb the ridiculously expensive “next day shipping” fees so as to minimize our time offline. Besides, I was fresh off a spontaneous vacation so I had a lot of electronic catching up to do!
Being that we placed the order on a Friday morning, the next day to us meant Saturday. The company we ordered from happily accepted the bucket of money we through at them additional payment, but neglected to ship the replacement router because……wait for it…it would have cost them too much extra money for weekend shipping.
Wait. What?!
So I was forced to wallow in the irony of seven full days of no home internet service! I know! Totally a first world problem. You’d think I’d use the forced-unplugged time wisely and maybe catch up on the laundry or something. Mais non. Thankfully, I just upgraded to a new smarter-than-me-phone which gave me (albeit limited) access to the outside world.
Obviously made-up-hyphenated-phrases and liberal use of italics are the theme for this Stream-of-Consciousness post.
To make this long story even longer, I should probably tell you that the router was delivered to my door the day after the holiday, by an out-of-breath delivery gentleman that literally ran the package from his truck to my door. He gets a gold star for enthusiasm.
So me, being a former computer network professional, immediately attempted to install the new router. I failed. Apparently being out of the technology workforce for 11 years had rendered me incapable of connecting 2 cables and a power cord to make the thing go. Obsolescence is a humbling experience.
Of course Hubby came home and had us up in running in about 16 seconds. The very same wonderful man that I married, who has never been a computer network professional. Yet, technology loves him. Whatev.
Which brings me to the next item:
Hubby has decided my term of endearment I use for him here on the blog doesn’t suit him. He isn’t a fan of “Hubby” nor do I ever call him that in real life. Hubby was just a common way for me to describe him without using his actual name. Because when you regularly spill your guts on the internet, some semblance of privacy must prevail.
So my soulmate-babies-daddy-best-friend-man-of-awesomeness has decided that he should be referred to by something less generic than “Hubby.”
Can he do that? Can I do that? Can I just change the blog-reference-name of the man that I’ve been married to for nearly 13 years at the drop of a hat because he doesn’t think the name is cool enough? If I refer to him by a more cleverly thought out moniker, would you guys even know who I was talking about? A weighty decision, for sure.
Naturally I posted the idea on Twitter to see what my friends had to say.
A few of us bantered ideas back and forth for the better part of a day. Since he didn’t want anything generic, my initial suggestion was obvious:
The Callipygous One
It’s a well known fact. Besides, NanaBread gave full permission to call him TCO for short. Not to be confused with her husband, TCP (The Complete Package.)
Other possiblities:
Sweet Cheeks
Spanks
Mr. Man
TaCO for The (always) Callipygous One
TCO could also mean The Crass One, because he is all that and a bag of chips.
ATaBoC for All That And a Bag of Chips (Or Cupcakes or Chai. Not that you can have a bag of cupcakes or chai, but I love them too.)
The BS’er for The Bacon Slayer (as in the one that brings home the bacon)
The Baconator
How we went from buttocks to bacon, I’ll never know. Nor do I know how we even started on the topic of callipyg…oh, wait. That was me being silly. Suffice it to say that things were steadily spiraling out of control. We figured with all the names we were tossing around like Nerf balls on a windy day, he’d be begging for us to call him Hubby again.
And then Kat, being the forthright one in the crowd, said that she always thinks of Hubby as, well…Hubby. But then she had to go and say that she was feeling The Bacon Slayer. No abbreviations. Just:
The Bacon Slayer.
(Insert ominous music and Monster-Truck-Rally-Announcer voice here)
For what it is worth, The Bacon Slayer also made TCP laugh out loud. So now what inquiring minds (read: I) want to know is:
Should Hubby get a reinvented name on the blog?
If so, what should I call him?
Feel free to shout out your opinions, ideas, and favorites. Or by all means go ahead and throw some new ideas into the hat. Or just give me a little should out in the comments section and tell me to get some more sleep, because clearly I am sleep deprived.
a.k.a My Return From the Land of No Internet.
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